


Sex Pollen and Mixed Signals

by Whyndancer, Yatzuaka



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bondage, Crack, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Light Dom/sub, Loki has a praise kink, Sex Pollen, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-10-14 14:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10538622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whyndancer/pseuds/Whyndancer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatzuaka/pseuds/Yatzuaka
Summary: Weddings are great. Good food, good music, dancing and everybody gets to dress their best. Darcy would very much like to use this opportunity to catch the eye of a certain reformed supervillain demi-god, but he's too busy catching heat for Thor's latest screwup.What do you mean there's a problem with the flowers?





	1. Apparently the road to Accidental Orgies is also paved with Good Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> About a month ago I sent a part of a fic to Whyndancer, whining - as one does - that I needed a five step plan to turn snark to smut. What happened next was the greatest collaboration of ALL TIME. She took that seedling of an idea and turned it into the most wonderful, crack-tacular fic EVAR. I love this fic, and I love her. She's amazing. - Yatzuaka
> 
> Yo. So about a month ago Yatzuaka sent me the start of an absolutely delightful crackfic and I needed it like breathing immediatly. She was kind enough to let me put my two cents in and things kind of ran away from us and just... y'all. This has been so much fun to toss back and forth. I hope you guys have as much fun reading as we've had writing. Also, she makes me blush with this rediculus praise. I just helped, She's amazing. -Whyndancer

Darcy can't stand crying. It doesn't suit her even a little. Her face swells up like she's having an allergic reaction, her eyes go puffy and red, to say nothing of the snot. When she cries, it's not pretty, it's not cute and it's not as if she's been kissed by dew.

So, she'd promised herself before walking down the aisle in her stylish suit - no crying.

She should have counted on Steve Rogers making her break her promise. Fucking Steve, with his emotional vows and his heartfelt earnestness. Fuck that guy. It's his fault she's stuck in the bathroom, trying to wrestle her "waterproof" mascara back into place. It's his fault she was reduced to hiccupping sobs in front of a room full of people.

Well, actually Sam had definitely had a hand in her woes, with the big, dark eyes pooling with liquid starlight. Turns out he was the pretty cryer of their group. Figured, really. Some guys had all the luck.

Darcy heard Thor's toast coming to a close - glasses smashed with reckless abandon and there was much hooting and hollering. That was a hard act to follow, but she had a few tricks up her sleeve. Mostly in the form of heinous pictures to be displayed on a large screen in a PowerPoint presentation.

She took a deep breath to steel herself and exited the bathroom with a big smile.

* * *

Mission accomplished. She'd managed to make every single Avenger blush to the roots of their hair - even Iron Man himself, Tony fucking Stark. She was rather proud of that one, and would thank Pepper for the photo with baked goods on the morrow. If she was honest, it would be the day after, because she was not leaving here sober, and if she was really lucky, she wouldn't be leaving alone.

It was possible her cleavage had popped a little too much while she took her well deserved bow after her speech, but she had hopes that would make things easier. If he had been paying attention.

She made her way to her seat with a little extra swing in her hips, ready to get the cake eating over with so she could go do something really stupid.

Except the jerk was gone. She checked the security feed on her phone, so he hadn't actually left yet, he just was somewhere around... incognito. Bastard. Didn't he know she was on a schedule? A thought which made her snort into her glass of champagne. He barely noticed her existence on a good day, and tonight was the night that was supposed to change all that.

A feat which was difficult to accomplish if she couldn't actually find the fucker and shove his face into her spectacular cleavage. Figuratively and literally. Still, the lack of Loki lurking about didn't mean she'd gotten all dolled up for nothing.

Since no one was likely to steal her purse at this particular wedding, she left it on her seat with her cute little tuxedo jacket and sashayed to the edges of the dance floor like she was on RuPaul’s Drag Race. Alcohol did things to her confidence; wonderful, terrible things. Things she was certain to regret in the morning.

Like Major Cutie in the uniform, who looked wildly out of place in what had quickly become a veritable den of inequity. It seemed a little early in the night for quite so much grinding on the dance floor, and so many varieties of pda off of it, but maybe everyone was hella pumped about the speeches?

In any case, Major Cutie held onto his Miller Lite like a life-preserver, obviously star-struck by Steve in full Glorious Steve mode. Sam was holding his husband's hand, eyes sparkling with wine and mirth and the kind of love poets wrote about, the complete shit.

 _I look fucking ravishing_ , Darcy reminded herself, and set her shoulders to "all the way back - maximum boob". On a regular day her boobs were fucking spectacular.  In the snazzy corset top she’d chosen to wear under her jacket they pretty much qualified as weapons of mass destruction. Cutie didn’t stand a chance.  

"Kevin," Sam grinned, "I'd like you to meet one of Steve's Best People, Darcy. You may remember her from such things as the sobbing during our vows, that nightmarish slideshow or her nipple popping out when she bowed. Nicely done, by the way. Real subtle way of letting the people know you're single and ready to mingle."

She wasn't going to blush, nope. "Hi, Kevin. My nipple absolutely didn't make an appearance because I've got enough tape on my chest to secure a pony to a light pole."

And those were the words she had really just used. In front of Major Cutie. It was too early in the night to wish for death, wasn't it?

"I mean, uhm, you're adorable and I would totally hurt you in ways you could only dream of, but there's this other -," Jesus fucking Christ, what is even coming out of her mouth right now, stop, Darcy stop! "- guy I am really trying to bang it out with, so if you don't mind being a runner up, I'd love to dance." She had never been so horrified in her entire life. "Also die. Dying sounds awesome right now, byeee!"

Something was definitely wrong with her. Thank fuck she'd left Kevin & co before she gulped down more of her feet. Natasha would know what to do. Natasha always knew what to do.

"Natty!" Darcy yelled at an entirely inappropriate volume.

"Never call me that, ever," the Russian hissed.

"I'm so sorry. And I would never call you that. Natty, I swear I would never even dream of calling you that, but something's wrong!"

"Gee, what clued you in?" The sarcasm was welcome, practically a soothing balm, but the sight of what Natasha gestured to was not.

"Is that Jane's feet sticking out from behind that planter?" Darcy tilted her head, trying to imagine exactly how that angle would work. Thor was crazy strong, and who knew, maybe Jane was crazy flexible.

After that Darcy tried not to think about anything too much at all as she was dragged behind Natasha Romanov through what was rapidly becoming a good old-fashioned orgy.

"What do you mean you told Thor not to import those flowers?"

"Exactly what I said, Director Fury. I told Thor those flowers were forbidden on Midgard. It's not my fault the id-, my bro-, Thor chose to ignore my warnings."

"Well, did you think to tell him why?" Director Fury's voice didn't rise in volume, but it definitely rose in intensity.

"Not exactly, but -,"

"How exactly did you think it was going to go when you tell your big brother he can't do something without explaining why? Tell me that!" The man took a deep, presumably calming breath,

"Oh good, Romanov, we're starting quarantine procedures in a minute," the most imposing man Darcy had ever met checked his watch.

When he glanced up at them standing in the corner, she tried not to pee herself. She gauged her success rate at 98%.

"Would someone in their right mind please make sure the civilian gets home, and stays there until the HazMat team can do their thing? Not you Romanov." His eye narrows on Loki.

"It's sex pollen, isn't it, sir?" Darcy said sagely, nodding sympathetically, like everyone was familiar with the tropes of fanfiction. By the way, she obviously needed to shut up. Like now-ish.

"Will someone please remove this civilian?" Director Fury repeated, clearly agitated.

"You seem superduper tense, sir." No Darcy! Nooooo! "I got some edibles in my purse, taste just like Jolly Ranchers. They'll fix you right up!"

"Loki, remove the civilian before she incriminates herself further."

Darcy held her hand over her mouth, the better to keep her big trap shut, but it slipped out regardless.

"Not him, sir, please!" Darcy bleated like a lost lamb. Because she was not even a little capable of resisting the urge to throw herself at him. Natasha was literally holding her back. She wanted him, possibly more than she had wanted the Optimus Prime transformer with real blinking lights on her fifth birthday.

Director Fury snagged Loki by the lapel as he passed, leaned in real close and whispered, "I trust I don't have to tell you that I won't end you if you fuck the civilian, but you'll wish I had."

Darcy could see the sneer forming, she could see the turn of his lips and the way his eyes pinched. His eyes raked her up and down like she was something distasteful, and she swore fealty to whatever deity would see her through this experience without bursting into yet more embarrassing tears.

"There won't be an issue with that, rest assured," Loki responded with the arrogance that unfortunately did nothing much at all to curb his fuckability.

"Aw, screw you, dude. You wish," which wasn't perhaps the stunning rejoinder she'd been hoping for, but she'd take it.

Good thing she'd been wearing those heels so much around her apartment, because she executed the crap out of that turn on one heel thing and stalked out of there like Naomi Campbell looking for someone to throw her phone at.

* * *

He watched her storm away for a moment, his eyes glued to the perfect curve of her ass as it swayed with her stride. Then, with a monumental effort, he dragged his eyes up and fixed them on the back of her head, cursing himself for being the most disgusting sort of wretch as he took off after her.

If there had been anyone else present that he could have trusted to see her home without taking advantage of her he would have handed her off in a moment, but all the humans at the gathering were currently in a state of near insensible lust (even the stoic Director, though he did a truly impressive job of controlling it) and it simply wasn’t safe to let her go alone. She was temptation incarnate even in her modest everyday garments, in tonight’s attire she would catch the eye of anyone with a pulse, and the effects of the pollen would make her unable to resist even the most vile of advances.  And if he had to maintain a glamor over the fly of his suit to conceal the unmistakable physical evidence of how very **_not_ ** unaffected he is by her, well at least tonight he can blame it on the fact that the flower causing so much trouble is a mild aphrodisiac even for hardier races like the Aesir and Jotnar.  As this is not the first time he’s had to glamour away the effect she has on him it’s a small comfort indeed.

He gave himself a mental slap when he found himself wondering how her soft tousled curls would feel wrapped around his hand.  Ymir’s sake, the girl was _twenty-six years old!_  He had literally no memory of being so young, though if his mother’s stories were to be believed, he was just recently out of nappies at that age.  Thor might be unconcerned with robbing the cradle, but Thor had ever been imprudent in his conquests and Loki had far too many sins to his name already to add another to his ledger.

Luckily the trip to her apartment was quick and largely uneventful.  The few cads whose attention she’d caught had been quickly deterred by the illusion of a snake up their pants and so Darcy made it home unmolested without him having to resort to violence.  She’d resolutely ignored him the entire way, which, he quite sternly reminded himself, was very much for the best. This was exactly what he’d been aiming for when he’d responded with so much manufactured disdain.   As Stark would say, there was a very special kind of hell for men who took advantage of much younger women.

The second she’d slammed the door in his face he teleported himself directly into his shower, leaving his clothing in the inbetween, and turned the water as cold as he could get it without triggering the shift to his Jotun form.


	2. Exercises in Embarrassment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which libidos are more controlled but brain to mouth filters are less so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay in getting this up and responding. It's all my complete inability to keep my variety of issues under control, and nothing to do with the saintly Whyndancer, who has done a heck of a job trying to get me to focus and, yaknow, do the thing. I forgot to mention how grateful I am for all the kudos and comments. You all have been wonderful. -Y
> 
> Once again she is giving me too much credit. I've been stalling out too and she knows it. Hopefully we can get the last bit whipped into shape before very long and get it up. Seriously, though, the response to this has been amazing! I love you all! -W

Darcy glared through the three inches that her door could open without removing the chain.  Unfortunately, neither Agent Gruntling Del Generico nor the six feet two inches of how-are-you-even-so-damn-fuckable lurking behind him disintegrated. That meant she actually had to respond. She closed the door enough to remove the chain so she could open it back wide enough to ream them out properly.

"You have got to be fucking shitting me right now. It is six thirty in the morning on a Sunday! I was drugged last night by sex pollen and _I didn't even get laid_ , and you want to come inside right now and decontaminate? Let me just say, as sincerely as I can, fuck no. Come back in like two, no, three hours and maybe I'll consider it, but right now? You'll have to -,"

"Ma'am, we've got orders -,"

"Did you just _ma'am_ me?" Darcy shook her head, shocked. "Look, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, if -,"

Loki spoke up from his spot in the corridor, "You might as well give it up for a lost cause. You're priority number one," he dropped his voice into a dramatic whisper, "Turns out our fearless leader shouldn't have sent you home in the first place. Let the poor mortals do their job. I want something sweet and you owe me."

"What? For not taking advantage of me while I w-,"

"Stop right there. Just so we're clear, you owe me for this," he snapped his fingers and she burst into bright blue flame momentarily. "There," he said, satisfied. "All clean." He frowned, almost an afterthought, "You owe me nothing for getting you home safely. What sort of monster do you take me for?"

Darcy was conspicuously quiet about that particular question. "Can't you just do that," she snapped her fingers, "to my entire apartment? To the entire Tower? Also, where am I supposed to go in a sweat shirt and boxer shorts?" She adjusted her glasses to sit higher on the bridge of her nose and cocked a hip into her open door.

"No. Oddly enough, since fire is not my element I can only do so much," sarcasm was probably not the way to handle this situation. He tried again "I prefer to -,

"So what you're saying is that you set me on fire without really knowing exactly what you were doing?"

"I would say nothing of the sort. I'd say that years of research and experiments bore fruit and I was successful in my attempt at immolation on the cellular level while maintaining -,"

Darcy rolled her head forward and made a grotesque choking sound. "That's it. The death of the last fuck I had saved up for winter! Oh no, the children, pa and I will surely starve! Whatever shall we do?" She looked at them both, Loki and his poor compatriot in loathing, with completely dead eyes.

"Let's break this situation down. So we're all the same page. It's six thirty. In the morning. It's a Sunday. I wore out three sex toys last night because of pretty space flowers and their demon sex pollen. I am tired and cranky and entirely unfulfilled. Tell Nick Fury he can pry me out of my bed with his cold dead fingers, ‘cause I will kill the next man to come between me and my sheets. Good night, morning, whatever. I'm out."

He could see her drawing back to slam the door in their faces and almost against his will his hand shot out to stop it.  She stumbled at the unexpected stop but caught herself quickly. Her eyes widened and the flat look of utter distaste lit with a spark of anger.

“I believe I mentioned that you owe me something sweet.” He glanced down at the unfortunate agent who had gone a rather pasty white between them. “I believe you are no longer needed. Leave.”  The man scurried off at a gratifying pace, leaving him free to focus on the adorably disheveled girl behind the door.  The level of pure rage in her glare nearly had him checking to make sure his hair had not caught fire.

“What in the ever-living fuck do you mean by ‘something sweet’ you egoma-“

“Donuts,” he interrupted.  “You brought donuts to the lab the other day that were quite palatable and I wanted something sweet to break my fast this morning.”   _What are you doing you idiot!? What are you saying??!_ Shrieked a voice that might have been either his conscience or his common sense.   _It wasn’t despicable enough that you milked your snake last night under an ineffectually frigid shower while thinking of her lips, now you’re actively seeking her company? You truly are as vile as they say you are._

Meanwhile, Darcy’s ire had been replaced by flat incredulity.

“You want. Breakfast. Sweet breakfast. Wut… even…. You know there’s more sweet breakfast foods that just donuts and pop tarts, right? I mean, I will totally give you that Jimmy’s has the best donuts in the history of donuts, but donuts in general are kind of the epitome of the empty calorie.  Pancakes and waffles are at least a bit more substantial and are good with fresh fruit. Waffles even have little pockets to keep the syrup in.  And then there’s french toast, which…”

He felt a swell of affection as she absently nattered on, tugging the corners of his lips up toward a smile. Affection was acceptable, affection he could handle, affection was something appropriate to feel for a much younger associate. And seeing her standing there in a comically oversized sweatshirt and baggy cotton trousers, her hair a riot of bedraggled curls and frizz, bleary eyed behind her glasses, it was a relief that his strongest impulse was to further muss her hair as if she were a child.  He was also relieved that affection was the only thing that _was_ swelling.  For once.

There was something inherently awkward about standing in her doorway talking to a man - alien, whatever - she regularly had the _most_ inappropriate thoughts about. Especially when the conversation was about breakfast. Because she had done this before, but never without the _good times_ coming first.

The consequence of that awkwardness was that she was officially rambling. Did it still count as a soliloquy if it was about the comparative virtues of waffles and pancakes, or how French toast was practically health food when one considered the protein from the eggs and calcium from the milk?

There was the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips, and Darcy hoped most sincerely that that expression meant something other than polite condescension.

"I can make pancakes and French toast at home. In fact, I do, _all the time_. But making waffles requires a waffle maker and I don't have the kind of space you need for a good one. Yay or nay, how are you leaning waffle-wise? If it will sway your vote, they've got little pockets for -,"

"Syrup, yes, so you said. Waffles then."

With the matter settled so satisfactorily, Darcy changed quickly into much more reasonable jeans and a t-shirt for their excursion and had JARVIS call for a ride.

Reality set in when Loki squeezed in next to her. Breakfast. Alone. Well, in public alone. No buffers. It was hard not to bounce as they were driven to the restaurant. She was so nervous and anxious, it was difficult to tell if her hands were trembling because her blood sugar was low or if it was that she was mildly terrified. It wasn't even that was she scared he would physically harm her, he'd have done that way before if that was the case. It was just - this could end _so badly,_ and in so many different ways.

Normally, she wouldn't have cared as much, but this was a co-worker who also did magical... _things_ . This was _Loki_. Loki who she saw every day. Loki who set her on fire to kill pollen. Loki who she definitely had been imagining while she tried her damndest to get off last night so unsuccessfully.

Her brain helpfully provided a numbered list of the various possible ways she could fuck this entire thing up, and attached flowcharts, all of which terminated in "Die of embarrassment".

It was then she realized it was possible she needed a vacation. She clenched her shaking hands and tried to think happy thoughts. Ones that had nothing to do with Loki, numbers or interpreting them visually.

Her hands only became a problem after they were seated and the waitress had brought the coffee. She didn't want to end up wearing the coffee,  so she carefully stirred the milk and sugar in and breathed in the aroma. She didn't actually lift the cup off the table for fear of spilling it, she just hoped against hope that caffeine molecules would float up with the steam and she'd inhale them.

He was looking at her, wasn't he?

And, oh hey - she had a winner with possibility number 9 from the helpful brain list: She'd make it weird.

Then came the wait - the long, interminable wait for the food to arrive. It should have been her time to shine. She was a freaking master at filling in silences, the undisputed queen of small talk. "Fucking A Darcy, don't you ever shut up?" That's how this usually went. Instead, she sat there - counting those long eyelashes of his while she mooned and fretted.

There had to be other things in the diner that she could look at. Her phone! Oh thank god, her phone! And there is was nestled safely in her purse. It was unconscionably rude, and her grandmother would have rolled over in her grave, but what other options did she have?

"Excuse me," she blurted suddenly. "I forgot to check my email this morning. You never know when something important will pop up, so it's best to keep on top of it. Or suddenly there's an avalanche of emails and you're swamped and Jane's yelling at you about the orbital decay of who the fuck even cares, and you realize this wasn't supposed to be a career. It was only an internship!"

Darcy took a deep breath, eyes wide as saucers, "Fuck dude, I thought you took care of all of _that_ with the snappy-fire." She held up a palm, "No. Let me guess. It was only for stuff stuck on my person, huh? Because I'm clearly still affected. I mean, whoa, that was some very repressed stuff right there. How long are the effects of that shit supposed to last?"

There was a nearly comical expression of Oh Shit on his face as he stared bug-eyed at her phone. She glanced back down as the dots connected. "No. Not my phone. Not my _precious,_ " she cradled it close and hissed, but he gave no reaction. "Jesus, you're worse than Steve. Lord of the Rings? Ugh." Then the waitress bustled past the table and her own eyes widened in horror. “Oh God. Did we just contaminate Manhattan? Fury’s gonna kill me.”

Across from her, a stricken Loki slowly stretched one pale, perfect hand out towards her. _Wait…is he trembling too?!?_

“Please Miss. Lewis, if you would hand me the phone.”  His voice was notably weaker than she could remember hearing it in pretty much ever.  She clutched the phone tighter.

“Nooooo…. You said you’re not that good with fire.  You could kill it.” Darcy could hear the whine in her voice, but she really had no fucks to spare.  “Dude, a murdered phone would seriously tip this fucking farce into a tragedy.”

“Miss. Lewis, I swear the phone will not be harmed. I need not use the fire on it here, I simply need to contain it, and perhaps your purse, there’s unlikely to be enough residue to affect anyone beyond this table and even you are unlikely to feel the full effects from such a small amount as long as I put it away now.  I’ve stored phones like yours in the inbetween before with no ill effects.”

Maybe it was the fact that that was the most words he’d ever said to her at once (without sneering even!).  Maybe it was the bizarrely earnest look on his face. Maybe it was just so he’d take his goddamn porn-worthy fingers out of her face so that she might be able to stop calculating how deep inside her they’d reach.  Whatever the reason she handed over the phone and purse and watched him disappear them into thin air.  She did not need this kind of stress.

“There we go. They should be perfectly safe there until we can get them properly decontaminated later.  Do try to relax a bit, when you suck at your lip like that it makes me want to do it for you.”

Wait, WHAT?

Her eyes snapped back up to Loki’s face and from the look of startled horror there, she might _not_ have misheard that. Even as she watched a light dusting of pink spread across his cheeks and down from the tips of his ears. _Loki was blushing!_

 _May the bowels of Helheim swallow me now, I KNEW this was a bad idea._ He should have called the whole thing off as soon as she’d come back out of her room in a cotton shirt that stretched snugly over her glorious breasts and jeans that hugged the curve of her hips and ass like he only wished he could.  But this whole thing had been at his insistence, and there was no reasonable excuse he could think of short of telling her outright that he was a horrid pervert who couldn’t keep his mind from wandering off in wholly inappropriate directions when she was nearby, which was something he would very much rather not be common knowledge. Moreover, he didn’t _want_ to call it off.  He knew from his observations that Darcy was a charming, intelligent young girl with a keen wit and dry sense of humor that quite complimented his own.  If he could just keep his damned libido where it belonged, i.e. far away from girls less than a fortieth his age, he rather thought they might get along handsomely.

“I am _so_ sorry, Darcy. I didn’t mean to tell you that. I mean, I didn’t want you to know how much I think about your mouth. No! I mean I should probably shut up now before I show myself as an even bigger letch than I already have.”  What was _wrong_ with him? Aesir never suffered this sort of verbal incontinence from the damned Lover’s Bloom. He’d always stayed far from the thing until now, so he wasn’t quite sure what was going on, having only his research and anecdotal evidence to draw from.

He glanced back up at Darcy, whose expression was somewhere between offended and confused. Lovely. Any moment now she’d denounce him as a ‘creep’ and insist that he never speak to her again.  He’d seen her do it to the young idiot from accounting who had somehow thought he could win her affection by sending her unsolicited pictures of his rather unimpressive endowments.

“You mean this shit affects you too?!?”

He blinked. That was not the response he was expecting, thought it was delivered at the anticipated volume. At least he’d thought to put up a privacy spell when they’d sat down at the table, so that the near shriek would go unnoticed by anyone else.

“Well, yes, the flower is known to be a mild aphrodisiac among the Aesir.  They call it ‘Lover’s Bloom’ and it is traditional at weddings. Likely why Thor was so insistent on bringing it. I swear I told him it was a bad idea but I could find only very old stories about its effect on Midgardians and he must have wrote me off as being a worrywart. As usual. I probably should have expected it, it’s not like this hasn’t been happening for the last five hundred years, but he has been better about it lately and I really just hoped he’d fucking listen to me this time. And now I’m getting into things I’ve repressed and we should probably leave now because I’ve got a thousand years’ worth of things to humiliate myself with, Check Please!” He looked desperately round for their waitress, who was unfortunately nowhere to be seen.

Darcy looked downright indignant now. “Now hang on just a second, you didn’t seem bothered by it at all last night!  Wasn’t that why El Furioso had you take me home? I was wondering if it was just me you found that repulsive but that line you just dropped about my lips did not sound repulsed.”

He snorted in exasperation. “Just because you couldn’t see that I was near to bursting out of my pants doesn’t mean I wasn’t affected.  I am still a master of illusion after all.  I’ve no idea why I’m running off at the mouth this morning because I have no data whatsoever on what the thrice damned flower does to a Jotunn runt! And gods help me I am anything but repulsed by your lips. The thought of your luscious lips damned well had me polishing my dagger off because not even ice water was enough drive it down.  If I’m repulsed it’s at myself because you’re _twenty-six years old!_ Volstagg’s youngest is almost twice that and she’s knee high on me and still sucking her thumb.” He was going to die. Possibly of mortification and possibly of organ failure, because all the blood in his body seemed evenly divided between his cock and his face.  A strangled scream tore past his lips and he buried his face in his hands, utterly defeated, because he would _never live this down._

Darcy sat there. Her mouth was open because there was a faint notion that she should say something, anything. As if in anticipation, her hand fluttered up to help articulate that which remained unsaid, and she waved it around aimlessly while she tried to figure out what part of any of that to acknowledge.

The waitress chose that moment to bring their food. Loki started to say something, but Darcy was hungry and she was not about to let Loki cock-block her waffles. No way, no how.

"Shut it," her verbal stalemate ended as she smiled winningly at the waitress.

"But," Loki tried again.

"I said shut it," Darcy's smile turned predatory. "Thanks, ma'am."

"We should leave," Loki tried again, but was quickly interrupted by Darcy.

"We should stay. The damage is already done, and look: Waffles! Steaming, fresh, gorgeous waffles. Look how the butter is melting. Ah," Darcy sniffed, appreciative, and hummed. "Plus bacon." She grabbed a piece with her fingers and bit into it with gusto.

Loki looked mildly horrified, but honestly? Darcy had seen Thor eat. Loki had dealt with worse.

"Look, I'm going to pretend I heard none of what you just said, and you are going to give me the same courtesy. Sustenance wins over humiliation, in this case. See? Look at me eating and pretending I didn't just hear you compare me to a middle-aged toddler." She ignored the fact that he'd made even passing mention of having sexual interest in her, since it was something so unthinkable she didn't know what to do about it and was just going to classify it as momentary insanity for now. Later, well, later she'd probably not be able to stop thinking about it.

Loki grumbled, but grabbed for the syrup after Darcy had poured approximately half of it over her waffles. She had just taken a huge bite when he spoke up again. Knowing him that was very deliberate. "Very well, and I will ignore the fact that your breasts are heaving most becomingly."

She coughed, startled. Her eyes went to his face, and he looked to be maintaining a very nonchalant expression, which even she could see was fake. Two could play that game.

"What can I say? Waffles really do it for me." How she managed to make that sound salacious was a mystery, but she enjoyed the way his cheeks flushed, the way maple syrup spilled carelessly over the edge of his plate to pool on the table. It felt like something she could be proud of, in an odd way.

Xxx

The thing about aliens was that while they apparently had the wherewithal to realize that there was a concept known as "checks", they rarely get the actual payment part of the equation. Darcy knows two aliens, and both of them do this exact same thing every single time, same as nearly every dude she'd been out with... ever. Some things are universal, she supposed. Loki handed her her purse from the void, and she dug around inside briefly for her wallet.

"Funny that you can pull an entire outfit plus gilded accessories out of nowhere, but money? Not so much," Darcy sighed as she put her bank card on the little tray with their check.

"I swear, I thought I had my wallet, and strangely enough, I've been advised that creating money out of magic is frowned upon," Loki's eyes rounded in mock innocence, as if he hadn't a clue why money forgery was such a big deal. It was possible he actually didn't know, but explaining consumerism and capitalism was definitely a conversation for a different day.

"It's no big, man. I'm used to it. Besides, I get to write this off as a business expense." Darcy grinned, "Also, now you owe me." She signed with a flourish and walked outside with the dopey grin of someone who had partaken in a particularly satisfying meal.

It was obscenely bright outside of the restaurant and Darcy tipped her face up to the sun while she waited for their ride to arrive.

"Why did that sound like a threat?" Loki took up the conversational thread.

"Because it was?" there was something sinful about the way her eyes sparkled at that. A car pulled to a stop and she clambered in with a complete lack of grace that had no reason to be charming, but was.

She patted the seat next to her. "Come on, we've got to get back," she told him, even if she had zero desire to actually do that. It was gorgeous out, and it seemed like such a shame to waste it indoors, even if _outdoors_ was technically not her favorite thing.

Loki folded himself into the back of the tiny car with her, and with no warning they shot off into traffic with a shudder and jerk. The driver careened around corners with a casual disregard for the comfort and safety of their passengers, and Darcy found herself pressed against him on more than one occasion. It was thrilling, the way Loki's jaw clenched every single time she was forced into his side. She'd almost gotten used to the jostling when the car took another turn so fast it nearly went up on two wheels. Her hands shot out to brace herself, and she found herself with a handful of Loki's crotch.

She looked at him, he looked at her hand, still grabbing onto his junk for dear life. It wasn't just in her mind that he was hard, was it? It could be funny, in fact, it probably would be at some later point, but right then, she was halfway between "Oh god, kill me now" and "Oh god, he's got a huge boner".

Loki strangled on a gasp at her touch. His mind went blank, the many very good and noble reasons he had for his reticence about Darcy dying very ignoble deaths as she squeezed his staff. It wasn't possible that she did it on purpose, was it? He whimpered, and he felt his dignity flee his body.

He wanted more than anything for her to stop, for her to keep her hand there. His brain was a muddle of a million conflicting thoughts and he found himself shouting "Stop!" at the top of his lungs.

The driver took him at his words, and pulled over to a stop sharply enough that his face bashed into the headrest on the seat in front of him. Loki scrambled for the door handle, frantically pulling at it before he fell out of the car in a heap of tangled limbs on the sidewalk.

Darcy looked at him with a mixture of delight and confusion he should not have found so incredibly alluring. He was a god to these people, he was a thousand years old! He should have been able to handle a bit of ill-timed physical contact, but the pollen of those thrice-damned weeds was making even the smallest, most innocent and innocuous of Darcy's gestures a seduction he was in no way equipped to withstand. She couldn't possibly know what she was doing to his shrinking control.

"Alrighty then," Darcy said, as if it was commonplace to find him sprawled out on the ground. "I was meaning to pick up some fruit for the office, and I guess this is as good a place as any."

Loki finally got to his feet as she spoke to the driver and got out of the car. They had come to a stop in front of a tiny shop with baskets of unfamiliar fruits and vegetables on display outside.

Because this day was cursed, as surely he himself was, Darcy spent an inordinate amount of time gently prodding and stroking a variety of fruit in a manner which could only be described as suggestive. Loki could not look away as Darcy's fingers trailed along the yellow skin of a long banana, as she held up an apple and smelled it, as she popped a grape into her mouth and savored it.

It was a thousand times worse than anything she had subjected him to during breakfast. He stood there, shocked at her seemingly overt display. Shocked and aroused. There something was very wrong with him that he should react so to her handling of fruit.

Eventually the torture was over, and the fruit bagged up while she paid.

"Should we walk home from here? It's not far, and it is a beautiful day."

He nodded his assent, not trusting his voice.

He walked beside her today, mostly because it was easier to avoid looking at her that way.  The morning was actually quite pleasant and the fresh air was helping to clear his head a bit and she thankfully seemed content to finish their journey in blessed silence.  By the time they made it back to the tower he had more or less gotten himself back under control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the smut is coming next chapter- W


	3. Save a Horse, Ride a Demigod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief discussion of age differentials across species.  
> And then Sex. Lot's of Sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whyndancer- Sorry this is so late, hopefully this chapter was worth it. So much smut. Like, over half of this fairly long chapter is smexy times. Enjoy.
> 
> Yatzuaka- this is entirely Whyndancer's doing. Entirely. I have had exactly 0 drive lately, and I have to be honest, I was stalling for any sort of inspiration. She's amazing, this chapter's amazing... That's all.

Loki found himself standing in the hall outside Darcy's door for the second time that day. This time, however, he had his eyes fixed firmly on the wall just to the left of the door as he waited for Darcy to unlock it. After what seemed like an hour of awkward fidgeting while she dug around in her still contaminated purse for the key and waiting for the additional voice scans to confirm access, the door was open and he was more than ready to make his escape.

"Well then, Miss Lewis, thank you for the lovely meal, and if you'll hand me back your purse I will take it down to be decontaminated properly and be out of your hair entirely. I'm certain they should have it sent back before the day is out." He extended his hand and waited for her to hand him the object in question.

Darcy, however, merely cocked her head to the side and looked back at him, her expression one of mild but patent disbelief.

“Dude. You don’t seriously think you’re getting out this that easy do you?” Her voice too was flat and tinged with incredulity. Nevertheless, it sent a cold shiver up his spine.

“I am not quite certain what you mean Miss Lewis, getting out of what?”  He knew, even as he said it, that it was possibly the least convincing lie he’d ever told.  He’d struggled to get the words past the truth of ‘ _I had hoped’_ that had sprung to his lips, and he’d been unable to keep his voice steady.

“Oh please,” she snorts. “That’s bullshit and you know it. We need to talk.”

“Please Miss Lewis, do you not think it would be more prudent to save such discussions for later, when we are no longer... impaired?” Case in point, not only did his voice practically drip with desperation, he had _squeaked_ on the last word!  Surely she would see the sense in sparing them both further mortification.

“Yeah, no. I think this is actually the perfect time to have an _honest_ , open conversation about a few things.  I’d really rather get this done before you go back to saying as little as you possibly can to me ever.  And guess what...” She waved her purse in his direction and grinned, a wicked little thing that was as arousing as it was terrifying. “You Owe Me.”

* * *

XxxxX

Darcy puttered around the kitchen as the coffee brewed, fully aware that she was stalling. Which was doubly ridiculous because she’d been the one to insist on doing this now.  She’d turned over the bag once he’d sat down, and there had been another brief flare of blue flame over both of their hands to decontaminate them and now all that was left was to actually talk. Fuck.

Sneaking a peak at Loki though was enough to remind her of why she wanted to get this over with.  He was visibly nervous. And while she hated that she made him nervous, the fact that it was showing meant that this was probably her best chance at an honest conversation about this, what with him being a Master of Illusion and all. Ass. _And anyway,_ she told herself, _at least this way if I say or do anything too mortifying I can blame it on the flower._  She pulled sugar from the cabinet and creamer from the fridge and set them both on the table just in time for the coffee pot to finish. She poured two cups and sat down across from the fidgety demi-god, sliding one of the cups across the table to him.

“So.  The age thing.” She still couldn't quite bring herself to look him in the eye, and so settled for watching the steam rise from her coffee cup. “I’d be more upset if I hadn’t already had to talk Thor down from this particular tree of cultural thorns, if you’ll forgive the metaphor.”  A quick glance up at his face revealed a nonplussed expression that made her grin a little. “Yeah, he overheard me talking about Kardashian drama and the standard formula for deciding if an age difference is creepy and got worried that his relationship with Jane was inappropriate. And before you ask I'm not going to tell you what the formula is because you'll freak out again. I _will_ tell you the same thing I told Thor - that A.) as long as all parties are consenting adults exceptions can be made. It's a guideline, not a law. And B.)the whole thing kind of breaks down when you're considering beings that age and grow at an entirely different rate.”

“Howso?” He sounded curious rather than dismissive and his expression was thoughtful when she looked. Good signs.  

“Here’s the thing, the oldest human being on record lived to be a hundred and twenty-two years old.  Thor tells me that Asgardians are still like, pre-prepubescent at that age. The physical and emotional equivalent of like an eight or nine year old if I understood him right. If you get stuck up on direct comparisons like that, then it would meant that you think all humans ever are children who are incapable of rational decisions or giving consent.  Which is getting into ‘ant and/or goat’ territory. I was given to believe you’d gotten past that particular mindset, correct me if I’m wrong.” She was looking him full in the face at this point so that he could see just how pissed she would be if he answered otherwise.  

“Ah, no. I believe I have been adequately disabused of that notion.” He had the decency to look abashed at that.

“Good. So we are agreed that the direct comparison of age in measurements of linear time does not work.” She didn't wait for him to respond but still caught his affirmative nod before she continued. “And a trying to compare them in direct proportion doesn’t work either, ‘cause despite how ridiculously long it takes you guys to grow up you still spend a much smaller fraction of your life expectancy as kids.  As a proportion of my expected lifespan I’m actually a good chunk older than you, but you don’t see me calling you a child.”

The corner of his lip was twitching with poorly suppressed smirk and his eyes were crinkling with amusement. “I appreciate that.”

She snorted. “You better.  There’s more comparisons like you’ve been an adult for a little less than half of your life, and I’ve been an adult for forty...wait, no I did that math for Jane. Shit.” Fuck. On the fly fractions and percentages were not exactly her forte. She could have him dig her phone out for the calculator, but she really didn’t think they needed any additional contamination at this point. Wait, wasn’t Loki really good at math and stuff? “You. What’s… we’ll say nine, ‘cause I’ll be twenty-seven in less than a month… and that’s actually easy cause it’s just a third, but what percent of sixty-three is nine?”

His eyebrows had gone up and he was practically grinning now. Gods he was giving her punch-hug problems.  

“A little over fourteen percent. As in you’ve lived fourteen percent of your expected adult life and I’ve only lived a little under ten percent. And you’ve lived nearly a third of your life _as_ an adult. “The grin turned a little bit rueful. “And yet…”

Darcy sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know, you still have hundreds of years more life experience than me.” She made sure to catch his eye before she made her next point. “The important thing is whether or not you’d use it try and manipulate me or influence the balance of power between us. And if you do try and pull that shit, be aware that I will taze you so hard that Myeuh-Myeuh will be jealous.”

“Understood.” More eye crinkling. “You’ve very neatly argued all my concerns into seeming rather foolish now. I must commend your skill.”

“Yeah, well…” Oh gods, was she blushing? “I _was_ captain of the debate team in school.”

His grin expanded into a full blown, sparkling, ray of sunshine, swoon worthy smile that lit up his whole face and practically the entire room.  She was so screwed. ( _That_ is _the goal._ -Shut up brain!)

“In that case, Captain Lewis, would you do me the honor of allowing me to court you?”

“Darcy. Please call me Darcy. Especially if we’re going to be dating. I mean, that is what courting means, right? I’m not missing another cultural disconnect am I?” And now she was back to babbling. Great.

“Yes, I believe that is what it’s called here. Stark owes me a favor for containing an incident in the lab last week, so I believe I should be able to procure tickets to that show you’re always singing songs from during work. The one about the politician.”

Wait, what? “Hamilton? You’re taking me to Hamilton?” It came out mostly as a squeak, but she figured that could be excused because _Hamilton!!!_

“So long as Stark can help me to arrange the tickets, and you would be amenable, yes.  It seems as though I’ve wasted quite a lot of time being a fool and would like the chance to get to know you properly, without my misconceptions in the way. And as much as I would like to make up for lost time, I do not wish to rush you into anything, so I will leave the date of our outing in your hands.” He smiled at her again, not quite as blindingly as before, but still a solid dazzle.  

“Not rushing sounds good. I can do not rushing.” She was honestly a bit dazed because if she’d thought Loki was hot when he was being an asshole, he was positively lethal when he made an effort to be charming. He’d just asked to take her to motherfucking _Hamilton_ on their first date!

Date! Right, he’d asked her when she wanted to go. Normally she’d bring up the fact that Hamilton was generally sold out weeks in advance, but if it was Tony (or actually Pepper probably) finding the tickets, it certainly was doable.  “Jane actually has a super busy couple weeks coming up, which means I have a super busy couple of weeks and I can’t check my phone, but I’ve got my planner in my other purse in my room, gimme a sec I’ll go grab it and be right back, okay?”  She took off towards her room, only to stop dead just inside the door.

_“Motherfrick!!”_

* * *

XxxxX

He moved almost without thinking at her cry, crossing the distance between them in long urgent strides, pulling up short behind her just as she lurched forward into her room with a wail.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe some skeezy Shield goon cleaned my sex toys!”

His body betrayed him.  For all they’d agreed to take this slowly, the sight of her gathering up the toys that had been so tidily arranged on the neatly folded blankets had sparked his imagination and sent his blood rushing straight back to his unruly cock. His legs moved him slowly towards her. There were three that she grabbed up off the bed, blushing and sputtering: a small silver egg attached to a long cord, a slightly larger than average sized phallic shape with an odd animal shape coming off the bottom - the placement suggested that it was for added stimulation of her pearl of pleasure, and the third, well...

He had always found it ironic that despite all the ways he did not measure up to the average Aesir he was more than generously endowed. It was ironic rather than a point of pride or comfort because he’d had more than one potential lover be so intimidated at the sight of it that they called things off entirely.  Darcy’s third toy was a realistically detailed phallus that, at a glance, was easily larger far larger than the average Aesir and perhaps only a shade smaller than his own. No, she certainly was not a child after all.  He walked up just behind her as she dropped the toys into the bottom drawer of her dresser, the curve of her ass as she bent nearly irresistible.  The same arousal that was making his pants too tight filtered back up to loosen his tongue, bypassing his common sense and dropping his voice into its deepest registers.  “These are the toys that you wore out last night? “

She’d been in the process of standing back up and at his question spun to look at him, eyes wide. He caught a flash of pink at her lips and saw her throat work before she nodded and took a small step back. He followed.

“You mentioned that you’ve fantasized about me in the past. What about last night? Were you thinking of me when you used these? Imagining my staff filling you?”  Another nod.  “And yet you said you found no satisfaction.” With each question he advanced another step as she retreated, never breaking eye contact, until her back hit the wall. He stopped a hand's breadth away from her, his arms coming to brace against the wall on either side of her.  The blue of her eyes was slowly being swallowed by desire and her breath was as ragged as his own.  Her head moved this time in negation. “Perhaps… perhaps you would like to see if the real thing is more fulfilling?”

“Fuck yes,” she breathed, rocking up on her toes to meet him in a kiss.

* * *

XxxxX

He was finally, _finally_ kissing her. She’d been fantasizing about this for weeks.  And he tasted Amazing and he was an Incredible kisser, but… she was going to literally die of frustration if he didn’t pick up the fucking pace.  He was being incredibly tender and gentle and pulling back every five seconds to check and make sure she was still okay with this, and while she appreciated the thought she just fucking wanted him _in_ her already.  When he moved away from her mouth to drop a line of soft, lingering kisses against her jaw she decided to take matters into her own hands.  Literally.  Remembering his reaction in the cab, she slid one hand off his shoulders and down, down, down over his chest and stomach, relishing in the shape of his musculature along the way, until she reached his belt.  It was, tragically, a bit too snug to get her hand under so she skipped over it and settled for palming him through his pants.  

His hips bucked hard into her hand, and he let out a short, desperate little ‘ah’ that was quite possibly the hottest thing she’d ever heard. But before she could to more than confirm that, yes, he was, in fact _that big_ , his own hand shot down and pulled hers away, fingers circling her wrist in an iron grip that was just shy of being painful.  She could feel him struggling to maintain control, his limbs trembling as he panted into her hair.

“Please.”  His voice was wrecked already and her thighs clenched reflexively at the sound of it. “Please… I can’t… I need…” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ordinarily this would be where she smirked and came back with _‘what if I want you to?’_ but she wasn’t quite so far gone that she’d forgotten that the man currently caging her against the wall was a thousand year old god/alien who was actually physically capable of snapping her like a twig.  The fact that there was literal magic sex pollen involved was also something to consider.  Time for a different approach.

She pushed lightly against his chest, and he got the message right away, stepping back so that she could move past him back towards her bed.  He followed a few steps behind her, and she waved him past when she reached the dresser where she kept her toys. She motioned for him to sit on the bed while she leaned back against the piece of furniture behind her.

“Right. So. Control is an issue.” He nodded.  “And I kinda feel like you’re still getting your head around the ‘Darcy is a consenting adult’ thing.” A somewhat more sheepish nod. At least he seemed to realize he was being ridiculous now. “I may have an idea about how we can work around those issues.  As you can see, I’ve got a nice sturdy metal bed frame, courtesy of Tony being Tony, and...well…” She bent back down to dig in her collection, pulling out a set of unusual metal cuffs. She’d spent a lot of time adding little touches to them, padding the hard edges and such so that if she ever got the chance to use them they wouldn’t be painful.  “Tasha hooked me up with a set of these crazy strong electromagnetic cuffs.  I don’t know exactly how strong you are or even if you’d be into something like this, but I just thought you might not be so worried about hurting me if I was the one in control.  Or something.”  So maybe jumping straight into bondage was the polar opposite of ‘not rushing into anything’ but it’d be a hell of a lie to say she’d never gotten off to the thought of him tied to her bed.

Loki’s expression during her proposition had gone from lustful and dazed, to lustful and curious, through lustful realization, to outright carnal.  His tongue slipped out to wet his lips and he swallowed hard before he answered her in a voice so rough and low it was practically a growl.

“Yes… yes I believe that might be for the best. If you would let me see them a moment, I can ensure that I cannot break them accidently.”  

She pushed the drawer shut with her foot and padded over to set the cuffs in his outstretched hand. He bent over them for a moment and a green and gold shimmer passed over each of the four cuffs in sequence.  He paused. “If you want me to remove my shirt, I will need to do so before the cuffs are in place.”

“Yeah. Shirt. That sounds like a good plan.” And now she was babbling like an idiot, which was really _not_ the impression that she wanted to be giving off right now.  Time to get it together for reals.  “Take off your shirt and your shoes Loki, but leave the pants.” Better. “Take the blankets off the bed while you’re at it.”

A twitch of his fingers had the bed stripped to the bottom sheet, but his clothing he removed by hand. Watching him methodically undress, long, graceful fingers undoing one button at a time and sliding the perfectly fitted cotton back over his shoulders was a perfect striptease, but she stood firm and kept her hands to herself. Once his feet and torso were bare he took the cuffs back up secured one around each wrist, then looked back up at her, a thin ring of emerald glinting through his lashes, and offered her his hands, palm up and relaxed, the cuffs fitted snugly round his wrists. "How do you want me, my lady?" And god if that didn’t go straight to her clit.

* * *

XxxxX

“Lay down. I want you on your back in the middle of the bed. Put your hands by the bedposts. You may have one pillow under your head.” Darcy’s voice had gone from dazed and hesitant to so confident and commanding that he wanted to drop to his knees and worship her properly. But he had turned control of this encounter over to her and she was glorious in her power already, so he was more than happy to comply. Once he was arranged to her specifications he looked back to her for further direction.

“Very good.” As she began walking toward the head of the bed she pulled her t-shirt up and over her head and dropped it by her feet, leaving her perfect breasts covered only by a green cotton bra with black trim. He may have whimpered a bit.  Once she had reached her destination she reached out to grasp his wrist and then stopped. “Before we really get started I’m gonna need a safeword. Or we can use the stoplight system if you’d prefer. Green means ‘this is good, keep going’, yellow means ‘slow down or I need to change something’, red means full stop. Which would you rather use?”

“Mmm… the colors I think. I've used something similar before, though I doubt we'll need it.” He had his magic and his constitution was far more robust than any mortal lovers she may have had in the past.  

She rolled her eyes at him as she activated the first cuff. “Yeah, well, I don't care how strong and godly you are, I'm not going to tie you up without it. That's the bare minimum of bdsm etiquette and I'm not skipping it just because you're a demigod and magic sex pollen has lingering side effects.” She sashayed around to the other side of the bed, undoing her jeans and peeling them off at the halfway point. Her underwear, too, was green though of a different shade, with little black cats printed on the fabric. He gripped the headboard a little harder with his free hand. As soon as she’d come round and got that hand secured as well, she paused again. “Give me a color?”

“Green.” His response was immediate and borderline desperate. He’d say near anything at this point if it meant she would just _touch_ him. And then she did, palms and nails dragging roughly down his chest until they reached his waistband. He arched up into her touch, hissing out his pleasure. As her fingers set to work unfastening his pants, though, a tendril of apprehension snaked its way through his gut, and he could not help but watch her face anxiously. When gentle fingers finally freed his aching cock from it’s painful confinement she gave a sharp gasp, her eyes widening comically as she finally got a good look at the size of him and he felt his heart sink. He let his head drop back to the pillow, shame and regret stemming the relentless tide of arousal.

“Gods Darcy, I should have warned you. I'm so sor-” He broke off on a sharp cry because suddenly her hands were on him, one cupping his sack and the other wrapping ‘round him just below the head.

"Don't you DARE apologize. This is a fucking gift and I am a lucky lucky girl to get to unwrap it.  I mean, any future quickies are gonna be a stretch, pun _fully_ intended, but...damn son. Your dick is flawless." And he was hard again as he'd ever been, helpless under her touch as she measured him with her hands. “Yep,” she continued, “this is the opposite of a problem, especially since it’s been less than 10 hours since I killed the batteries in my biggest toy, so it really shouldn’t take much prep at all. Gimme just a minute.”

She proceeded to finish pulling his pants down his legs and tossing them aside, before securing his ankles and quickly shucking her undergarments. “Real quick before I forget, I’m on birth control so _that_ shouldn’t be a problem, but my condom stash doesn’t currently include magnums. Are you clean? Like, no sexually transmitted diseases or anything?”

“No,” he gasped. “I’ve had no such diseases. Have you?

“Nope.” She grinned at him, clambering up on the bed to straddle him, knees to either side of his waist. She bent over him, kissing up the line of his neck until she reached his mouth and sealed her lips to his, sliding her tongue inside and stealing his very breath. When she finally needed to come up for air, she sat back and promptly slid three fingers into her cunt. His hips bucked involuntarily at the sight and they moaned almost in unison. He watched her fuck herself open for what seemed like an eternity, but could not in truth have been more than a few moments until he could take it no longer.

“Darcy. Darcy please,” he panted, “come here.”

“Dude.” She paused a moment in her ministrations. “How much closer can I get?”

“Please, Darcy, let me taste you.”

* * *

XxxxX

“Fuck.” He was going to fucking kill her what with the eyes and the voice and the begging.  She scissored her fingers one last time before pulling them out and leaning forward to slide them into Loki’s mouth. He sucked them down immediately, his tongue swirling insistently around each digit, lapping up every drop of her slick that he could reach. By the time he was done she was shaking with need and ready to mount him then and there, but Loki had other ideas.

“More. Please. Let me taste more of you Darcy, my hands may be bound but my mouth is still free to give you pleasure.”

God that sounded amazing. But…

“Yeah, and it needs to stay free so you can give me your colors.”

Suddenly the air around her was filled with dozens of glowing green orbs of light. The one closest to her cycled easily through yellow and red before fading back to green.

“Or that. That works.”

She crawled up his torso and grabbed the headboard for balance while she hooked her legs over his shoulders. Even before she lowered herself to where he could reach her dripping slit, he was nuzzling at the skin of her inner thighs and pressing wet, open mouthed kisses as high as he could reach. He worked his way up as she eased herself down, licking and sucking higher and higher until her thighs were resting on the tops of his shoulders. As soon as she was settled, he set to devouring her. Lips and tongue caressed every inch of tender flesh that he could reach. Teeth were used with gentle precision to add just enough pressure and the barest edge of pain, nipping lightly at her labia and scraping gently over her clit. She gripped the headboard like her life depended on it - staying upright under her own power was pretty much impossible at that point. He was eating her out like a starving man and moaning like she was the most amazing thing he’d ever tasted and his tongue was in her and on her and doing things she never thought were possible. Suddenly, _finally,_ his (long, perfect, amazing, godlike _, silver_ ) tongue stroked _just_ the right spot inside and he sucked _just_ hard enough, and she was coming, falling, flying over the edge in a blinding rush of pleasure.  She shuddered and clenched around the slick muscle that continued to work inside of her before withdrawing to lap at her folds, easing her down from her peak while simultaneously building her arousal right back up.

When she could move again she carefully pulled herself up and off of him, then just sort of flopping back onto the bed next to him, eyes half closed and still breathing hard. She put her hand out to the side to try and steady herself a bit, and it landed conveniently at the top of Loki's perfectly defined, drool worthy abs. Though really, everything about the guy was drool worthy. She slid her hand down a bit, fondling shamelessly, delighting in the way the muscles moved under her hand, especially with him breathing just as hard as she was, when her hand encountered a patch of unmistakably sticky wetness.

Her eyes snapped open, focusing immediately on her hand and the pearly white spatters it had found pooling on his lower abdomen. Moving her gaze just a bit south, though, offered the sight of his still rock hard and throbbing cock, dripping deliciously. It seemed weird to call it pre cum, though, when there was a pool of decidedly not “pre” cum just a few inches away.

Still blinking dazedly at the sight before her, she couldn’t help but ask, “Did you just…?”

“Yes.”

God his voice was hot right now, all gravel and gasping.

“And you’re still…?”

 _“Yes!_ Darcy, _please_!”

The raw desperation in his voice, the unabashed begging drew her eyes back up to his face and her cunt clenched around a wave of pure need at the sight.  He was straining against the cuffs, his hair tangled around his face in riot of dark waves and damp curls, his eyes glazed and blown wide and looking almost drugged. His mouth was pink and slack and _wet._  The whole of his face below his eyes, in fact, was practically glistening from the epic facesitting session they’d just finished.

“Holy shit.” It was the most erotic thing she'd ever seen, and she _needed_ to tell him. “Fuck, Loki, do you even know how fucking perfect you are? You've been so good and so patient. Waiting for me to get myself ready, and then _begging_ me to let you eat me out. Do you know how many guys I've known who wanted to lick my cunt that much? None. I've had plenty of guys beg me to go down on them but never the other way around.  And you enjoyed eating me out just as much as I did, _literally_ , and you’re still hard and aching for me. God. Gods. Whatever. There’s no way I’m letting you get away after this.”

She dragged her hand lazily up and down his throbbing dick as she spoke, but kept her eyes focused on his face watching his reaction play across his features with every word she said. Unless she was very much mistaken, it looked like Loki had a bit of a praise kink going.  And while that was something she was _definitely_ going to be exploring further, watching his cheeks go ever pinker, seeing the muscles in his throat and jaw work and feeling his dick twitch and throb in time with her words had her a dripping needy mess again herself. She released his shaft and moved to straddle him, reaching down to grasp him again, this time lining the broad head of him up with her dripping slit.

As wet as she was, it still took a minute to work the tip of him in past her entrance.  For all her talk earlier, his was definitely the biggest cock she’d ever handled personally. Real or synthetic.  Her fingers didn’t come close to touching where they were wrapped around him. Not that she was complaining.  When he was finally far enough inside her that she could let go without him slipping away she let go and moved both hands to his chest in order to better brace herself as she eased herself down.

It was definitely still a stretch, and she had to go very slowly with plenty of pausing to adjust, but the feel of that slow stretch, taking her just to the edge of pain and no further… it was perfect. She couldn't help but clench down around him to savor the feeling every half inch or so, and her cries of pleasure at every stop were matched by those of the god beneath her.

She watched his face as she took him in, and fuck if wasn’t doing almost as much for her as finally getting his dick where she’d wanted it for months. Every move she made, everything she did to him was vividly translated in the play of emotion across his features.  If she'd known he'd be half this expressive during sex she would have jumped him in a supply closet ages ago and to hell with the consequences.  Of course there was always the possibility that he was only this expressive right now because of the sex flower. If that _was_ the case Darcy might just have to work something out with Thor because this was too fucking good to lose.  

When he finally bottomed out inside her, her eyes fluttered closed against her will as they moaned in unison.  

* * *

XxxxX

He was dead. It was the only explanation. No matter that he could not recall his death, it may well have been in his sleep, and the vision of perfection sinking down on his cock as though she’d never wanted anything more, must be a Valkyrie that had saved him from Hel, so that he might serve as an instrument for her pleasure.  There were certainly far worse ways to spend eternity, even being bound and unable to touch her as he wanted was bearable, if not ideal.  

She rocked against him, swiveling her hips in a languid figure eight, moaning her pleasure and the sudden urge to dig his fingers into her hips and guide her faster over his cock had him pulling mindlessly against his bonds and bucking his hips as hard as the restraints would let him. She gasped at the sudden movement her fingers digging into his chest where her braced hands had kept her from falling forward.  The bite of her nails against his skin and the strain in his arms from pulling against the cuffs anchored him, bringing him back from his fevered imaginings to the very real, utterly remarkable mortal _woman_ above him who was no less divine in her humanity than the goddess that his mind had conjured. Darcy. Beautiful, enchanting, sly, compassionate, sarcastic Darcy Lewis, who he increasingly suspected might soon capture his heart entirely.

Then she moaned, the muscles of her sheath clenching around him and his thoughts derailed.  She licked her lips and stared him dead in the eye.  “Color,” she panted. “Give me your color.”

“Green.” He breathed the word full of as much longing and pleasure as he could, and she rewarded him by beginning to ride him in earnest, and his mind gave itself over to the overwhelming pleasure she was giving him.

* * *

XxxxX

Holy fucking hell, she was absolutely going to be ruined for other guys forever.  Possibly even other girls. Even tied to the bed and unable to move his arms and legs, Loki was already blowing every other lover, fuck buddy and one night stand she’d ever had out of the water.  The things he’d done with just his tongue… And now, well, size wasn’t everything, to be sure, and she knew some girls who thought any cock that needed a magnum was too big for comfort, but Darcy’d always had a bit of a size kink. And Loki was filling her just the way she liked, a deep stretch, almost to the point of pain, that pressed every sweet spot inside her all at once.  And despite his decidedly limited range of motion, he was still managing to roll his hips up into her in a counterpoint to her rhythm that had her rocketing towards her peak in record time.  She moved faster over him, every so often interrupting her own rhythm to lift herself most of the way off him for the pleasure of the downward plunge.

She leaned a little farther forward to nip and lave at the perfect, sweat-slicked skin of his chest and in doing so she found she could grind her clit just a little harder against the ridge of his pelvic bone.  She ground down again and then once more and she was gone, soaring over the edge with a gasping sob of pleasure, her back arching as she shuddered around him.  She could feel him pulsing hot and slick inside her as he followed her over the edge with a ragged cry of his own.  The world whited out and there was nothing but this, this stunning, staggering pleasure and each perfect point of contact between them.

When the maelstrom of her orgasm released her, she collapsed forward onto his chest, which rose and fell dramatically beneath her as he tried to catch his breath.

“Oh my god,” she mumbled into the skin above his collarbone, “Oh my god that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.” Then she remembered that Loki was still cuffed to the bed and her head popped back up. “Are you okay? Do you need me to take the cuffs off now?”

His face was dazed and completely blissed out, and the only response to her question was a light tug at his cuffs and a contented hum. While that wasn't a definite yes, it wasn't a no either or much of anything coherent for that matter which meant it was probably best to take them off. Which meant she had to _move_. Ugh.

With a monumental effort, Darcy pulled herself up Loki’s supine form, both of them groaning as his softening cock slipped out of her.  She felt the loss of him keenly, an acute sense of emptiness after being so perfectly filled.

Moving high enough on the bed to reach the cuffs put her boobs in his face and he roused enough to nuzzle them gently.  As she unlatched his hands they came immediately down to rub softly up and down her back, and to help pull her back down so they were face to face, softly kissing his way up her chest and neck along the way. When her face reached his, she was the one to lean down to meet his lips.  The kiss was slow and sweet and gentle, and she could still taste herself on his lips.  

“As nice as this is, I should probably take the ankle cuffs off now.”

“Mmm. I think that I can -” He waved a hand at the foot of the bed, and she heard the click of the cuffs releasing. “- take care of that now.”  At that he pulled her down for another kiss.  

“Wait,” she said, at a pause between kisses, “could you have done that on your hands too?”

“It is much harder with my hands bound.” He turned them over onto their sides and wrapped her up in his arms, summoning the top sheet with another wave of his hand. “Are you well?”

“I’m pretty sure that was the best orgasm of my life. I’m amazing,” she mumbled as she drifted off.

“Yes,” he replied, tucking her hair behind her ear, “you certainly are.”

There was a moment of beatific peace before her eyes cracked open again to pin him with a Look. “You’re still taking me to see Hamilton, right?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For purposes of this crackfic, Average Asgardian penis size runs similar to average human penis size. In Japan.  
> No concrete measurements were used to describe Loki's package so that you can imagine him as big as you want.


End file.
